Basil... Goes Yeet.

The Only Chapter

It was noon. Basil was hunched over a plant... by the stairs. Home alone. The rose bloom in an elegant clay pot was basically the light of his life. Basil meticulously took care of this specific plant for weeks on end, never letting it die.

And it was next to the stairs.

Basil looked for things to prune, and wondered if it needed water.

Too bad gravity existed.

The clay pot fell out of his grasp... and tumbled down the wooden stairs. The sound of a pot shattering filled his ears.

"NO! NO!" Basil screamed. The remains of the plant sat at the bottom of the horrible flight of stairs. 

Basil screeched. The memories of the rose filled his head. How he got it from Walmart. How he protected it with his life.

And he started to sob.

Tears ran down his face, watering the stairs below him... instead of his beloved plant. 

He slipped.

"AAAAAAAAAAAAA! AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA-" Basil screamed.

His house was a blur of color as he fell down the wooden stairs. Basil's very life flashed before his eyes. Memories of his miserable existence played in his brain. 

He landed in the remains of his plant. It broke his fall. Basil looked at the scattered dirt and petals.. and wondered what could've been. 

What if he didn't take it to the stairs? What if he kept it in his room instead?! 

Filled with regret, Basil curled up into the fetal position and cried. 

An hour later, he got up. Taking the remains of the plant, he buried it in another, empty plant pot. The withered rose stared into his soul. He hated himself for this. 

He looked at his arms. They were bruised from the fall. His entire body was bruised, physically and emotionally. 

Basil screamed. For hours. Until his voice was completely sore. 

He ran to his room, and huddled under his worn, green blankets. What would his parents say when they witnessed this horrible mess? They would be disappointed, horrified, annoyed, and most of all... shameful.

He looked at the other plants in his room. THEY were healthy. THEY didn't fall down the stairs. They were fine!

Should he fling those down the stairs, too? Would that make it even?

But no. Basil needed to move on. From this guilt. This horror. He got up from his hiding spot (under the blankets) and was ready to face the truth. 

He walked up the stairs. Basil looked at the distance downwards. How far did the plant go-

Basil tripped over his own, accursed leather shoe.

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA-"

The entire world sped past. Basil's head crashed against a wooden step. The flower in his hair fell out, and down the stairs. Mangled. 

Basil groaned... and got up. Did he have a concussion? He rubbed his forehead. 

Then he saw his flower.

He started screaming. For the fifth time. Or more. 

HOW COULD BE SO CARELESS?! THAT FLOWER WAS WORN FOR WEEKS, WEEKS ON END.

HOW COULD HE JUST LET IT... DIE?! THAT WASN'T FAIR! THAT WASN'T OKAY! HE WAS USELESS! USELESS, HE THOUGHT-

His parents walked through the door.

"Honey, we're-" 

Basil was still screeching. Dear god.